


Back To Black

by badluckvixen13 (alteringviews)



Series: 1 Million for Black Hermione [42]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Hermione Granger, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 11:51:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16492055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alteringviews/pseuds/badluckvixen13
Summary: Draco opened this karaoke bar when he decided that he wouldn’t die in the gutter a penniless alcoholic a year ago.. He’d seen some great karaoke in his time manning the bar, and he’d seen some really bad ones.He’s pretty sure that he’s never seen anyone do Amy Winehouse with so much… style.





	Back To Black

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this literally in one day as Day 1 of Nanowrimo. Thank you, Amy Winehouse. Rest In Peace. Also posted on fanaticmusings.com

“Welcome to Dragon’s Light!”

Draco looked up at the new influx of people coming into the bar. By his count, they were heading towards capacity far faster than he’d first anticipated, but what could he expect? Dragon’s Light had become quite a popular hangout. Good food, good drinks, and karaoke apparently was a perfect business plan this near to a college campus. 

Pansy greeted, bright and happy. He’s pretty sure that freeing her from their upper-crust life was the best thing he could have done for his lifetime friend. She’d found her lovely girlfriend one day in the bar last year which made him the only person aside from Blaise, who managed his books, in his karaoke bar with an employee ID and no one to return home to.

It suited him though. His last relationship had crashed and burned once he’d been disowned. She’d been a shallow blip in his life that he’d gotten over in the sheets of several hundred women in the months between and washed smoothe with the gallons of alcohol that slid slick and easy down his throat on the way to Alcoholics Anonymous.

He’d come a long way since that day, a little over a year since he’d crashed to rock bottom. It was edging towards a year since he pulled himself out of misery and opened Dragon’s Light. He looked around the painted walls with a sense of progress. It helped him to remember that the building had been shabby when he’d bought it and how many jobs he’d worked that turned his manicured hands rough in order to fix it up. He remembered the day they put in the stage. He remembered his first customer when he was the barkeeper, the chef, and Pansy was the only waiter. He’d come a long way since then and was proud of it.

Today was Halloween, and it happened to fall on a Friday night, so there were hardly any spots left in the place. He wasn’t sure who let it be known that Friday was the best day to come to Dragon’s Light, but he was grateful for the person and even more thankful for the holiday coinciding. Fridays and Saturdays had become the life-blood of Dragon’s Light for a while until he’d built up enough liquid capital to relax a little. His gaze drifted towards his photographer and nodded at the man as he snapped photos.

_ Good,  _ he thought. He’d been right to get him and his sister, the videographer, on shift for the night even if he’d had to pay them a little more.

Luna walked on stage to start announcing the karaoke line-up and rules to the constituents as the new group of people came in. Among them, was a woman who caught his attention if only because of how simply she seemed to be dressed. Surrounded by a pale and theatrical witch with ginger-red hair, two taller pale guys dressed as matching red head pin-ups, and a messy-haired Frankenstein, she looked out of place.

It wasn’t her skin color, although that certainly added to her out of place-ness. Her skin was the color of the rich earth at the height of spring. She wore a plain, ribbed white tank top over a lace bra that peeked over the neckline, a pair of skinny jeans, and simple red pumps. Her dark curly hair was fashioned in a beehive with a collection of roses pinned on the side. The loose waves were pulled into a side part around her face. As they passed, he couldn’t tell if the mole was a dot of pigment or lip pencil, but her full lips were lined and painted with a rich red wine color beneath her cat-eye lined, rich brown eyes. He bet she didn’t wear makeup often, and perhaps, if he saw her without makeup, he may not have thought anything special of her other than she had a killer figure. He bet she worked out often enough to keep in shape.

He heard the guy who sat at the bar let out a hum of appreciation. 

The dark and colored ink on her shoulder tapped on something like a memory at the back of his mind.

“That’s a whole house of wine,” the man said under his breath, “Happy Halloween.”

She turned her head and smirked, a mischievous and killer look as her thick eyelashes lowered. She followed her group towards a booth near the bar as Draco hummed.

“Amy Winehouse,” he said softly.

“Duh,” the man said with a shudder that made Draco laugh, “With all that hair? I wonder if it’s all hers.”

Draco couldn’t answer the man as someone came up to the bar, the messy-haired Frankenstein whose green eyes almost matched the green pigment on his face.

“Hey. Two whiskeys, a Cosmo, an extra dry martini, and a Rickstasy.”

“Winehouse fan?” Draco asked as he pulled down the glasses.

Frankenstein chuckled as he pulled out his wallet, “Something like that.”

He threw a few bills into the tip jar and offered his credit card to start a tab. Draco helped him carry his drinks to the table they shared. The Rickstasy was, in fact, Amy Winehouse’s, the witch had a whiskey; Frankenstein had the martini. The pin-up in white had the other whiskey, and the pin-up in red had the Cosmo.

“Welcome to Dragon’s Light,” he said, “Other than Halloween, are we celebrating anything tonight?”

“A promotion,” the witch said lifting her glass.

“A breakthrough,” Amy said with a smile. 

She sipped with her eyes lowered as she looked at him over the rim of her glass. Draco swallowed and tried not to let it show that he had been affected by just her looking at him. The witch ordered an appetizer for the table as he did his best to keep from staring at Amy who made sex eyes over the table at him.

He turned and as he headed to put their order in he heard the witch.

“ _ What are you doing, Hermione? Put those eyes and those lips away. _ ”

“ _ I was just looking. _ ”

“ _ He’s quite the upgrade from Ronniekins.” _

He wasn’t sure whether or not to take that as a compliment, but he was almost mortified that he’d let it show that he’d been affected. He used to be better at having a poker face.

_ Damn it, _ he was apparently slipping.

For a while, he heard nothing about anything but how much alcohol people wanted in their drinks. When their appetizer was done, he carried it back to the table and passed the small plated around while they continued to peruse the menu. He did his best not to look at  _ Hermione _ , but at the last moment, he slipped up. She caught him with her gaze beneath her dark lashes. Her brown eyes too sensual for a simple meeting of gazes as her lips quirked.

“Could I have another Rickstasy?”

“Of course,” he said, “Anything else for the rest of the table?”

“A bucket of ice water,” the witch said nudging Hermione, “Mostly for you.”

The twin pin-ups laughed, “A fire extinguisher may be more useful.”

Draco cleared his throat as the Frankenstein shook his head, “A whiskey for the witch and a martini for me. When they stop laughing, I’m sure they’d like another whiskey and a Cosmo.”

“Of course,” he returned to the bar at a hasty pace to make their drinks and pray that he didn’t get caught in that gaze again.

What the hell was wrong with him? It hadn’t been that long since he’d had sex for him to be acting like this. Pansy slid up to the bar.

“What’s wrong? You look like you went outside with no sunscreen.”

Draco glowered at her as he placed the drinks on her tray, “Could you take these over to the table with the witch, Frankenstein, the pin-ups, and Amy Winehouse, please?”

She hummed and took the tray without another word. When she returned she gave him a knowing and sly look.

“So, since you were never into gingers or guys, I’m going to guess that you’re hiding from Miss Winehouse?”

Draco groaned.

“Not that I blame you. Her… assets certainly draw the eye.”

“How would you know?”

“Oh, she asked me where the bathroom was,” Pansy let out a low whistle, “She’s not exactly  pretty, but her eyes…”

“We’re done,” he said, “Go from me.”

He placed the two drinks she’d asked him for on her tray after ringing them up on the respective tabs. She laughed and took them across the busy room as someone else came over to order a drink.

Soon enough, it was about time to collect plates and ask for their actual orders so he dabbed his face in cool water, dried it and tried to maintain his dignity as he walked over. Hermione had returned and was looking at her menu.

The table seemed satisfied with sharing a few entrees between them and ended up with the flight of sliders and a platter of fried foods. He escaped the table without being caught in her gaze to his surprise and thought he would collapse with relief. The food came without issue as another rush of people entered.

“ _ Amy Winehouse? _ ” Luna asked into the microphone, “ _ Back To Black. _ ”

He groaned. He fucking loved the song and hated when people sang it terribly. He’d heard a lot of Winehouses since opening Dragon’s Light, and he’d yet to hear a good one. For some reason, the people who ended up choosing the song liked to imitate her voice rather than embody the feelings of the song in their own voices. He would know. He listened to “Back To Black” among a few other songs nearly obsessively over the course of getting over Astoria.

At the worst of time, someone imitated one of her live performances in which she had clearly been struggling with withdrawal.

He’d nearly punched the man in the face who’d thought it was funny. It had brought too many memories of losing one of his favorite uncles to an overdose when he was younger. Draco shuddered at the memory as Pansy came over to him. Hermione sauntered on to the stage and he wasn’t sure what to do.

Pansy came over, “Moment of truth of whether you want her number or not?”

“He guessed.”

Another ginger-red head wearing fake armor walked in with a woman dressed in a medieval courtesan gown. It wasn’t a good imitation, but it got across the point. Coupled with her blonde hair in a glittering net, it was almost passable for a high school play. They walked across the busy room towards Frankenstein and the rest of Hermione’s group.

He grabbed his tray and tablet to go check on the group, but it was quickly made clear that this man and his companion had not actually be invited to join the group as they were standing by the table.

“What is she wearing?” the courtesan asked as Hermione adjusted her microphone to her height, “Oh… is she that singer that died a few years back?”

“Amy Winehouse,” Draco said, “Can I get you anything?”

“Oh,” she said startled, “After we get a seat, I’m sure. Right, Won-Won?”

_ You have got to be kidding me,  _ Draco said.

“Yeah,” Won-Won said throwing a look at the rest of the table, “See you later, I guess.”

The lights dimmed to just the spotlight. He returned to his station behind the bar as she nodded to the music person and the music began. He shivered a little as the years crept up his neck. Somewhere in the middle of the room, Won-Won and his courtesan settled and another waiter approached them to get their orders.

It starts in her hips, he’s sure the slow rock to the song that at the least breaks up the stillness of the room. Her fingertips trailed up the microphone pole with a sensuality he could almost feel on the back of his neck.

“ _ He left no time… to regret,” _ she sang and made Draco almost groan with lust. Her voice, the cadence, she had at least listened to Amy’s music if not devoted a great deal of time to singing this song for practice.

“ _ Kept his dick,” _ she smirked, “ _ Wet… with his same old safe bet…” _

It was visceral that disdain and anger. It felt like a knife in his chest, and he wondered if everyone else felt it. If maybe it wasn’t her knife, but the knife of those words he’d thought he’d lost in someone’s queen-sized mattress at least a year ago.

_ “Me… and my head high, _ ” she lifted her face slowly, her hand gripping the microphone as her body swayed. Her voice shook him with his own emotions, _ “And my tears dry get on without my… guy…” _

If perhaps Draco had heard this song a million times, then he couldn’t ever say that this time was anything like the others. He hoped his videographer was recording this so they could post it to Dragon’s Light’s Facebook or something later, but for now, he simply enjoyed a rendition of the song that paid homage and brought something extra to its expression.

“ _ You went back to what you knew… So far removed... from all that we went through… _ ”

“ _ And I... tread a troubled track… My odds are stacked… I go back... to black. _ ”

The pain was fresher yet more removed. Perhaps closer was the better word as if she were speaking directly to the man and his safe bet too. The mourning had been taken out of the song as if it had already transpired and this was coming from the point of view of looking back at that  _ black. _

“ _ We only said goodbye with words. I died a hundred times… You go back to her, and I go back to… _ ”

He swallowed and looked down at the counter as her voice prodded at the days after Astoria filled with fucking every brunette, blonde, or redhead that he could find and drinking as much alcohol as he could swallow. Mindless and heedless at least a hundred time to empty himself out of it.

_ Why would I stay with you if you aren’t inheriting? _

“ _ I go back to…” _

“ _ Us, _ ” he breathed as the door opened and in walked Astoria Greengrass.

Hermione had seemed out of place in her group of extreme costumes. Astoria looked out of place in Dragon’s Light in her posh looking coat. He turned his eyes back to Hermione who had gotten more sensual with her movements, seemingly lost in the emotion of whatever she was feeling.

“ _ I love you much… _ ”

Maybe it was regret.

“ _ It’s not enough. You love blow and I... love puff….” _

Maybe it was a purely carnal liberation from whatever she was actually singing about, a surrender to the black.

“ _ And life… is like a pipe, and I’m a tiny penny rolling up the walls… inside… _ ”

“Draco.”

“ _ We only said goodbye with words. I died a hundred times. You go back to her, and I go back to…. _ ”

He turned back to Astoria who looked at him over the bar. Draco wiped some imaginary spot as he surveyed her face. She looked older than he remembered. Her beauty was dulled in some way, and maybe, Draco should have taken it as a sign that he was over it.

“ _ We only said goodbye with words. I died a hundred times. You go back to her, and I go back to…. _ ”

He smiled.

“ _ Black… _ ”

“Astoria,” he greeted, “I assume you came because you knew that Dragon’s Light has the best Whiskey Sour on the street. Though you’re a bit far from your side of the city.”

Her eyes narrowed, “I’m not here for your drinks, Draco.”

“Food, perhaps?”

“No,” she said, “It’s about your inheritance.”

Draco snorted, “You’re not a lawyer, Astoria, and I don’t have an inheritance.”

“You do,” she said, “Or rather you could, your mother asked me to come.”

He grit his teeth. Of course, Narcissa had sent her. At once innocent and completely naive, his mother knew how much he’d loved Astoria and knew how much he loved her. If anyone had a chance to get him to stay, it would have been his mother. 

“ _ Black… _ ”

“And?”

“Your father has fallen ill.”

Draco choked on the words. Was she lying to him? He wasn’t sure, he couldn’t really be sure of anything with Astoria or his father. He could see it as a threat, of what he wasn’t sure.

“How ill?”

It was against his better judgment to ask that, but depending on how bad it was, his mother might actually need him. They’d kept in touch since he’d left the Malfoy Manor, mostly stealthy phone calls or news passed through his uncle Sirius, the other black sheep of his family. 

“ _ Black… _ ”

Her eyes widened at his question as if she hadn’t expected, but he didn’t care about what she expected and what she didn’t. He certainly didn’t care to wait for her answer either. Draco almost snarled at her, “Answer me.”

“The doctors say its aggressive lung cancer. It’s metastasized. He’s going through treatments, but the doctors have suggested that he make his arrangements anyway.”

He turned to the man who asked him for another drink. As he mixed the drink, he watched Hermione on stage from the corner of his eye. 

“ _ Black… _ ” her voice was at once fierce and melancholic as if she’d lost herself in the revelry of the pain like when he used to press his bruises after Lucus was done berating him for the evening, “ _ Black… _ ”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“Don’t be a fool,” Astoria said, “Your parents only have one child. What do you think?”

“Is this a  _ come home _ from her or my father?”

He knew the answer to it already. If Narcissa needed him, she would have called him or Sirius would have shown up to drag him home and through the security. He placed the drink on the table for the man and thanked him for the tip. 

“I told you your mother asked me to come.”

Draco met her gaze and smirked, “She asked you or your mother offered you up as a suggestion?”

Astoria tucked an imaginary stray hair behind her ear. Had he ever thought about how much he’d always hated her perfectly coiffed hair? Probably as much as he’d hated his own. She just looked fake.

“ _ Black…” _

He shook his head, “I’ll take your refusal to answer as one. Go away, Astoria. The nerve of you to come here after everything is astounding. I’d applaud you, but I’m about to wretch at the sight of you.”

Astoria huffed, “Don’t be ridiculous, Draco. You and I both know--”

“No,” Draco said, “Surprisingly, Astoria there was once that I actually loved you.”

He cleaned a glass and met her gaze, “But you know,  _ you love blow, and I love puff _ .”

“Don’t quote drug-addicts. Every fool may have his day, but you’re a Malfoy.”

“Not anymore, remember?” He said, “Same reason we aren’t dating anymore. How much did dear old daddy offer you to convince me to come back?”

“Half of your estate in the prenuptial agreement.”

He snorted. How could he be surprised? He would have been more surprised.

“Surely, we can come to an agreement. I had a private detective look into you. You’ve been living rather roughly before… this  _ place _ had some modicum amount of success. Surely, you’d like to return to where you belong?” she smirked, a cunning and slithering glint in her eyes, “Back to being comfortable and pampered? You weren’t born to hard labor. Why remain doing so if you don’t have to?”

“ _ I go back to… _ ”

He looked down at his hands. There were days that he missed his comfortable life at the Malfoy Manor, but what price had it cost him? And now that he’d found out how much it had cost him and how  _ cheap _ living for his own sake could be, could he give that up just so he wouldn’t have to clean another toilet or stand on his feet all day?

To what end? For what point? Once upon a time, he might have taken the chance to be with Astoria again, but that had been so long ago. 

“ _ I go back to… _ ”

“Go away, Astoria,” he said, “Why not just marry one of my uncles who is bound to get a piece.”

She sneered at him, “Very funny.”

“ _ We only said goodbye with words.” _

“You only wanted me because I was inheriting. Willing to put up with whatever I threw your way for the prestige. What’s the difference if you marry someone who will kill over long before you spring a gray hair?”

_ “I died a hundred times.” _

“Don’t be ridiculous. Imagine the scandal, Draco. Obviously, it has to be you, so what do you want in exchange.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

_ “You go back to her and I go back to…. _ ”

Astoria huffed, “Fine. If you want to stay in this  _ bar _ and smell like alcohol and grease like the rest of the peons, so be it. You will tire of it eventually, and when you do, don’t imagine that anyone will be gracious about it.”

“ _ We only said goodbye with words. I died a hundred times,”  _ he sung with Hermione as he grinned and leaned over the bar. He watched the flush and anger in her eyes with a maddened glee, “ _ You go back to her, and I go back to black. _ ”

She glared at him and stormed out the front door as the room went up in cheers and the song ended. He felt the years roll off his back as the applause sounded around him, and he could only clap as well. She bowed and left the stage back to her table who seemed to be clapping loud and obnoxiously. She leaned over the edge of the table and came towards the bar with her Rickstasy glass. 

She smiled at him, and he smiled back, “Another?”

“Yeah,” Hermione said as she set her glass down, “Sorry, if I was making you uncomfortableI’m pretty sure you get people making those eyes at you all day, it must get annoying.”

Draco shook his head, “While you’re right, I wasn’t uncomfortable at all… I just didn’t want to seem like I only had one brain.”

She laughed as he held out his hand, “Draco. Draco Malfoy.”

She tilted her head, “Draco… Malfoy, like-- Did you go to Hogwarts by any chance?”

His eyes widened. He hadn’t heard the name of his high school alma mater in ages. Hogwarts was a pretty prestigious private boarding school in Scotland that boasted more college preparation than high school. It had gone a long way towards getting his degree done on a tight budget between alcohol and tuition.

“I… did,” he said, “How did you know that?”

She chuckled and shook his hand, “Hermione Granger.”

His eyes widened, and he looked at her more closely, “Granger… like Potter?”

“Frankenstein over there,” Hermione said jerking her head back, “Small world, isn’t it?”

He groaned, “I didn’t recognize either of you.”

She shrugged, “College and so on changes a lot of things. Don’t worry. No one’s a real grudge holder. It’s good to see you.”

“Not a grudge holder, eh?” he asked.

She laughed, “I didn’t think you knew how to say  _ eh _ the last time we saw each other with your incredibly posh accent.”

“As if you could speak, you blended right in, didn’t you?”

She shrugged, “I was in drama for a reason.”

He chuckled at that. He remembered being absolutely put out because she had been so _ good _ in the play their senior year that he’d cried. 

“I see,” Draco said as he finished making her drink, “Look… not to be awkward or typical bartender weird--”

She slid a car across the table as he slid her another Rickstasy.

“Call me,” Hermione said, “I’m a lot less know-it-all these days.”

He snorted, “Somehow, I doubt it.”

She shrugged, “I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t ya’?”

She took her glass and left without even looking back to see if he picked up the card. He did and tilted his head. It was a neatly printed card with her name in clear letters and a company crest he’d never heard of, but none of that was what surprised or confused him.

_ Creative Director and Illustrator, _ he thought. 

Yes, things had definitely changed since high school. 

He wasn’t standing in his father’s shadow any longer. He wasn’t afraid of failure any longer. He wasn’t afraid of people either. 

Perhaps he’d died a hundred times just to be reborn into this new Draco who owned a karaoke bar. 

He tucked the card in his pocket and set the dirty glasses in the washing bin behind the bar before grabbing a shaker to make an older woman a drink. 

The night wore on, and there were no more Amy Winehouse songs playing, but Draco hummed “Back To Black” long past closing. 

_ We only said goodbye with words _

_ I died a hundred times. _

_ You go back to her _

_ And I go back to black... _

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know in the comments if you'd be interested in a continuation!


End file.
